


Dead Aim

by PatPrecieux



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Crisis of conscience, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: James wants to protect the one he loves, whatever the cost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Robbie thought he knew James. He discovers he doesn't know everything.

Robbie Lewis had compromised in visiting his beloved Lyn and her wee babe to placate the other grandparents. Always affable, Lewis failed to see why a one big happy family Easter wouldn't work, but evidently he was ignorant of in-law politics. So he had settled for two weeks beforehand, which became less than ten days when colic reared it's ugly head.

 

As he navigated the train ride back to Oxford from Manchester, he tried to resist being a wee bit smug that said too posh in-laws would be treated to an endlessly screaming infant for their visit. He really did try, mostly, somewhat. Oh what the bloody hell, it was clear he was thought of as a common Geordie "tradesman" who was barely to be tolerated. As James would say, "As Ye reap so shall Ye sow." Good!

 

He had debated between calling James to expect him, and showing up unannounced. Very seldom did he have a chance to surprise his canny lad, so popping up it would be.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Robbie stretched his weary back and cracked his neck as he flagged down a cab and headed for the nick. James should be just about finishing his shift, but Lewis knew the tall blond would spend hours on reports rather than go home to their empty flat.

 

After good naturedly fending off the back so soons, and couldn't stay aways, Robbie sought out his Sergeant/lover. Office, breakroom, file room, loo, and the smoking area yielded no James.

 

Strangely, as he asked around, he was met with shrugs and oddly evasive glances. It had been Alan Peterson who, somewhat gleefully it seemed to Lewis, had pointed the Inspector to James.

 

As he made his way to a section of the station he seldom entered, Robbie wondered if Peterson, not a fan of his, had been taking the piss. Turning down the last long corridor, however, he saw His James.

 

Before he could go further, a young uniformed officer pulled him aside, insisting he put on goggles and noise reducing headphones.  
Feeling a "right fool" dressed for make-believe, Robbie stepped into the main firing range.

 

The black Sig Sauer automatic pistol rested all too comfortably, he thought, in James' rock steady hands. Not a tremor or sign of nerves in sight. A sure grip and firm stance accompanied the trigger sending round after round from the clip into the paper target. It was a chilling yet erotic sight. Robbie shook his head to will the feeling away.

 

Trying to decide what to say, Lewis watched fascinated as James pressed the retrieval button which brought the target right to him.  
Relieved to see that only a few of the multiple rounds had found their mark, Robbie readied a wry joke until he saw that the head and chest shots were not single hits but rather many hits almost one on top of the other. Once again, the Inspector found himself torn between being repulsed or proud of the marksmanship.

 

Before one word was spoken, that smokey, whiskey smooth voice caressed his ears. "Sir! You're back. When, why are you..."

 

"Stand down Sergeant. I'm fine, it's me poor grand baby's got the colic. Sent me running back here quick as a wink. Thought to surprise ya James, seems I'm the one surprised."

 

It was said without accusation or heat, but James turned bunny ears pink from the collar up. Removing the safety gear, he carefully unloaded the clip and the round from the chamber, and logged the weapon back in with the armory officer.

 

"Pint to celebrate your return, Sir?"

 

Placing a gentle hand in the small of James' back, he guided them towards the door. "Rather just head home Sergeant. Think we have lots to talk about."

 

~~~***~~~

 

Robbie contented himself with closing his eyes and being quiet on the drive to the flat. Nothing was to be gained by starting a row in the car over something he clearly was yet to understand.

 

Luggage inside, trip to the loo made and tea brewed, it was James who began.

 

"Before you do your nutter bit..."

 

"Oi James! Not doin' a nutter, just tell me what it's all about pet."

 

The gangly Hathaway folded into himself like an origami giraffe as he slumped down onto the sofa. Lewis couldn't resist sitting next to him, pulling the younger man back against his broad chest, arms wrapped protectively and possessively around the slim shoulders.

 

"I'm not sure you'll understand."

 

"Well I definitely won't if you don't try to explain." Pressing a soft kiss to a warm neck, Robbie coaxed gently, "Tell me love."

 

"I want you safe, Robbie!"

 

"Right here lad, safe and sound."

 

His voice low, cracking in frustration James huffed out, "Not on the streets you're not. The murderers, lunatics and terrorists are safe, but not Inspector Robert Lewis!"

 

"And a gun is the answer? You hate guns."

 

"Granted, but I was raised with them. After today, can you doubt my proficiency with firearms?"

 

"No, love, but a gun in those beautiful hands, that brilliant brain of yours reduced to violence like that. God James!"

 

"Dammit Robbie, do you think the killers in London, St.Petersburg, or Stockholm CARE if their victims are beautiful or brilliant, young or old, religious or atheist?! I heard an interview after London where a young girl, barely twenty if that, said the officer who was stabbed to death would have died at any rate, and SHE wouldn't feel safe if the Bobbies were armed. That young man would have died anyway?! Jesus Christ Robbie, he would have been bringing a gun to a knife fight. Guns or knives, who wins?"

 

Robbie took a deep breath before answering, "What about guns versus huge trucks, or bombs. Guns don't solve everything canny lad, and could you live with taking a life like that?"

 

James pulled Lewis' hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles one by one. "Guns CAN'T solve everything but they can serve a purpose. As far as taking a life, to protect you, there is nothing I wouldn't do, Sir." 

 

For minutes, the only sound in the flat was Monty yowling for his dinner and the patter of a rainstorm outside. Lewis finally sighed and released his "captive".

 

"Sounds like your cat wants feeding."

 

"Since when is he MY cat?"

 

"Since YOU let him into our bed to sleep on my face in the middle of the bloody night."

 

"Have a heart, Sir. Poor things got nowhere else to kip as I've already claimed sleeping on your ample tum."

 

"THAT is going to get you smacked on the arse later Sergeant."

 

James cleared his throat, "Are we done talking about this?"

 

"For now, clever clogs. Just one thing more. I can't stop you from transferring to an Authorized Weapons Unit, but I'd hate to lose me partner."

 

"I'd never do that to you Robbie, but after you retire..."

 

"Understood James, but you're not thinking of arming yourself illegally are you love?"

 

The younger man sagged, "And suffer the wrath of my Governor? Perish the thought, Sir. Truth be told, I guess I wasn't really thinking at all. Apparently when you're away, I fall prey to the machinations of hot shot Alan Peterson."

 

"Now THAT is a frightening thought, pet. Will say, you were damned sexy as a sharpshooter. Think we can put your accuracy skills to better use though."

 

"Such as?"

 

"How accurately can you reckon, first, what I want for dinner, and second what I want in bed later."

 

"I'm an expert Sir. First, anything that isn't pierce and ping, and second, anything I'm willing to give you, and that's everything." 

 

~~~***~~~

 

In the pitch blackness of a moonless night, the two lovers sated and exhausted, both dreamed of the other. James seeing Robbie felled in the line of duty, while he stood without so much as a rock to protect his Sir.

 

Robbie was in the grasp of a nightmare where James had shot an attacker, and then fallen to his knees in anguish and guilt. Both men jerked awake with almost the same thought.

 

"How has humanity come to this?"

 

For one night, at least, there was no answer. Only two men deeply in love, holding desperately to each other and hoping that, just for tomorrow, there would be no more madness.

**Author's Note:**

> Let us hope that the madness gripping our world gives way to sanity and humanity. "Imagine."


End file.
